I'm Married to the Devil... What Now?!!

Chapter 29: A Midnight Meeting

Today, the Wednesday after my mystery man's note was delivered, my every action is haunted by that note. Every glance from every friend seems a clue to who will show up tonight. I try to persuade myself it doesn't matter, that I don't care for him at all, but that's not the case. I love him, just as I love Nick, who has hidden himself away all week. The man whose child I carry, I cannot escape, though I try. I try not to be mad at him as the reporters shoot questions at me whenever I dare to escape the monotony of the castle. I want to hate him with every slap King Ayson gives me for being the people's favorite. I want to see him an equal to the boys who clamor to be my new fiancé, just another boy filled with adoration and lust, no real love in his heart. But, it's impossible, for I've laid with him in secret and in love. I've spoken with him in trust and cried to him in honesty. I've carried his child within me for the last twenty-three weeks in duty and motherly love. I cannot escape his hold on me.

Now, here I wait, dressed as if I am waiting for my coronation. My gown is lively and cheerful, something I am not. Its folds speak of richness and beauty. Every diamond on it shines with a brilliance I seem to lack. The cloth closes me in, caging me in its elegance and grace. I feel as if it's a costume meant for someone else, but I chose it myself, the maternity gown I didn't dare to wear for any other occasion. The dress that once hung on a chair in hope, in dreams of a happier marriage, only seen by the man I wait on, who promised me motherhood and then gave it. I wear it for him.

I hear the door open just as I drop my hands from the knot of the blindfold. The clock had just fallen silent as he stepped up to the door. My breath catches; my heart thumps in my chest. He's silent and I don't turn around to face him. He can't see my large stomach. He doesn't know.

"Detini," he breathes, crossing the floor quickly. His steps are rushed, but they stop when I turn in his direction, allowing him to see me in my glorified motherhood. It's completely silent. The only sound comes from my cat who purrs beside the chair I had just occupied. She's not disturbed by any of this.

"Is it mine?" He asks tentatively, yet he says it as if he already knows it's his.

"Yes," I answer, filling the deadly silence. "This baby is yours and mine."

"I'm the baby's father," the man repeats, completely assured. No more questions are asked, as he closes the remaining space between us. He kisses my lips lightly in that familiar way of his, and then turns me away, holding me up in my clumsiness. Once I'm turned around, I expect the blindfold to be lifted off, but it's not. He backs off and I hear him pacing behind me. I frown. What's he waiting for?

"Did you miss me much?" he questions lightly, seeming to explore speech for the first time. He pauses in his pacing, until I answer with a nod. "Did you hate me for leaving?"

I hear the pain in his breathing as I answer. "I hated you the whole time. I hated you for leaving me alone without a goodbye kiss and sending letters I could never depend on. I disliked you for every minute I carried this child in silence. I wanted to kick you when I first spoke of my pregnancy. I screamed at you late at night, when I slept by myself, or couldn't sleep because of our baby's infuriating sleep patterns. I wanted so badly to have you around when I had to tell Damien and his parents. I needed you beside me when I told my friends. I wished I could tell my father about the daddy of this child. I worried about you and cried over you for months. Then, I grew to resent you and all the love you send me, because of your disappearance. When I finally found a place of calm happiness, you sent the letter to upset me once again. Now, I'm not sure whether I hate you or love you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay. I never meant to hurt you so much."

"I know. I understand why you left. I wish I could just be thankful to have you back, but too much has happened since you left. I've changed in obvious ways and some less obvious ways."

"You fell in love with another man." He states it in a flat voice. I grimace. I feel like I've taken a dagger and stabbed him in the back. He doesn't seem angry, but sad. The truth is laid out between us.

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"Nick Reymond. My tutor."

"Your tutor! Nick!" He shouts, losing his dignified calm. It catches me off guard. "Why do you love him more than me?"

"He was here when you weren't. He loved me while you were too busy to do so. He held Sammy when she fell and taught Telo what a real man is. He held ice packs to the bruises Damien gave me and made me talk about all the wrongs committed against me. He loved me even when I didn't even love him. He thought I was beautiful when my eyes were red-rimmed and my hair was tangled from another sleepless night. He risked his life in standing up for me. I love him because he loves me and will stand beside me no matter what. I love him because I do.

"Yet, I love you just as much. I love the way you showed up in my life just when the world was looking bleak. You gave me hope for a better future. You made that hope turn into a reality. I'm free because of you. I'm a mother because of you. Never have you raised a hand to me or shown me any unkindness. The hurt that you've caused wasn't intentional. It was done with all the right intentions, in fact. I love you because you always knew when to come to me. You were there in the garden when I didn't know how to make it through. You were with me when I needed support. You were even there risking your life when I needed and wanted a child of my own. You have a hold over me that some days I wish wasn't there, but I can't deny it. I love you."

"Close your eyes, Detini," my mystery man says coming forward. I do as he says and the blindfold is dropped. My eyes still closed, I am turned around to face him. He kisses me sadly. I can feel his tears on my cheeks. "Open them," he whispers as he steps back.

I tentatively open my eyes. I feel as if I'm a blind woman seeing for the first time. The light assaults my eyes, so I put my hand up to shade them. I take him in; all of him. Nothing I see escapes my eyes. I see every line in his face and ever curve that outlines muscle. Every color that shines in his hair is detected. I even imagine the feeling of each thread in his clothes. He stands stock still, his eyes closed, so he doesn't have to see every expression that crosses my face. That would've pained him. I don't say anything as I watch his tears fall, an expression of wonder on my face, contrasting the pain on his own.